When Sand Rises in the Hourglass
by The Giant Daifuku
Summary: Balthier is seconds away from dying from a mysterious poison, but at the last moment, Penelo makes a deal with Death himself to spare Balthier's life. Now, she must travel back in time to when Ffamran Mid Bunansa created the poison in order to save him.
1. Kiss Me, Death

So… welcome to this story. This is probably going to be one of the darker stories I've written, so just be aware.

This first chapter is dedicated to **ElTangoDeRoxanne**, **fallacies**, and **emeraldonyxdragon** because they pretty much review all my crazy Final Fantasy XII crossovers. Even if they don't like this story or don't review for it, I wrote this anyway because they encouraged me to keep writing even when I thought my ideas were getting too crazy to boot.

Anywho, please review… 'cuz then I'll keep writing… and then you'll get to see if this fict is super dark… or super cute. It's only the first chapter, after all…

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Penelo stood on her tip-toes, reaching up and over her head in order to grab a box from the top shelf of the storage room in Migelo's Sundries.

"Hey, Pen." Vaan sashayed into narrow the room behind her. "Need a hand?"

"I need longer legs," the dancer sighed, moving over so he could get the box. "But I don't think they sell those in markets, do they?"

"You could always borrow Fran's high heels." Vaan quipped, lugging the box of echo herbs to the storefront. Penelo followed close behind, fidgeting with her braid and brushing off her loose pink trousers.

"I haven't really had the need for weapons since we stopped pirating, Vaan."

"You consider Fran's heels as weapons?"

"Yes."

Vaan whistled, clearly imagining just what Fran could do with two-pronged stiletto heels.

"Reminiscing about pirating days?" Migelo plodded out from behind a stack of miscellaneous goods various people sold. "I'd better give you more work then. Wouldn't want you to go runnin' off on me again. Penelo, there's a package that needs delivering in the North End. It's right next to the Clan Hall. Go do that, please."

"Yes sir," Penelo gave him a cheery salute, picking up the box. It was very light— almost as if there was nothing in it, yet when she shook it, it rattled faintly. Jogging out the door, she embraced the Dalmascan sun, feeling the rays beating down upon her bare back and shoulders. She ran by pillars flying Dalmascan banners, not the red and black standard of the Empire, and soldiers dressed in the armor of the Rabanastre Guard.

It was two years since the withdrawal of Archadia from Dalmascan lands, and one year since the fiasco with the Cache of Glabados. Finding themselves wingless in the aftermath of that adventure, Vaan and Penelo settled back down in familiar territory, helping Migelo run his shop. They rarely heard from Fran and Balthier, but did receive the occasional expensive curio now and then. And speak of the devil…

Penelo knocked on the door of the house next to Clan Centurio's Hall. A hooded woman opened it, gesturing her to come inside, and immediately shut the door behind her, casting a suspicious glance into the street. It was dark inside; all the curtains were drawn and the windows shuttered. Only light from a lone crystal brightened the interior, and Penelo could feel her heart quicken.

The woman lowered her hood, revealing tall, white rabbit ears and a cocoa complexion.

"Fran!" Penelo cried, throwing her arms around her old friend. Fran smiled thinly, stroking Penelo's hair. "What brings you here? Why didn't you come to visit? Where's Balthier? Is he around?"

"Hush, sweet child," Fran said in a quiet voice. "For there is much danger abroad and I am being pursued. Balthier is already in the clutches of our hunters, and he is depending on us in order to regain his freedom."

Penelo's happiness drained out of her as if inflicted with Sap, immediately replaced with a business-like demeanor. "Who are these people? What do they want? Your bounty?"

Fran raised and lowered one shoulder. "Perhaps. I do not know; they have not been as vicious in their hunt of me as they were of Balthier. When we were together, they were on us like hounds set upon a fox. I do not know where it is safe anymore. Perhaps nowhere is." Her hands were busy unwrapping the package, nose twitching as she smelled it for any sort of trap. Inside the box was a note in clumsy handwriting.

_**FoUNd yOu**_

If it was possible for a Golmore Viera to be pale, then Fran was pale. Her eyes searched every corner, her ears swiveled to catch the faintest noise. There was a crash from upstairs, followed by angry shouts.

"Go, Penelo. I am sorry, I should not have summoned you here. Perhaps now, you have gotten caught up in our mess." Fran's hands were filled with knives as she pushed Penelo out the back door. The frightened girl ran down the alley, doubling back in order to view the front of the house. Men in black clothing from head to foot surrounded the building, and some were breaking windows in order to get inside. Fighting back tears, Penelo dashed away, all the way to Migelo's Sundries, darting up the stairs and into her room, turning around and slamming the door. Only then did she let the tears fall, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed.

"Ain't gonna get away so easily, wench," a guttural voice growled in her ear. Foul breath washed over her face, and she gagged as she whirled to face her assailant, a spell falling from her lips. "Oh, tha' won't do, now would it?" The man slapped her across the face and shoved a gag between her teeth. "Balthier's got birdies all o'er the place, don' he?" the man's lips tickled her ear as he shoved her to the ground, binding her hands behind her back and attempting to push a bag over her head. His weight crushed her against the floor, and she squirmed, struggling as he wrestled her into submission. The man wrenched her wrist up at an awkward angle, and Penelo bit back a shriek, curling her legs under her and pushing him off. The man went sprawling, and when he got up, there was a gun in his hand. Penelo's eyes focused on the dirty barrel of the weapon.

Fomalhaut. Balthier's gun. But the hand holding it was thick and meaty, and sweating slightly. Her eyes traveled up the arm to look at the red, scarred face. No, it was not Balthier.

That was her last thought before the man's partner crept up behind her, felling her with a strike to the back of the head.

* * *

Hours later, she stirred, curling up as the first thing she felt was a throbbing pain in her skull. Someone grabbed her by a braid, forcing her head up and water down her throat, roughly pinching her nose until she swallowed. Her magick instantly drained out of her—the water was laced with Wizard's Bane. She was left alone again, nursing her headache and struggling to make out where she was.

It was a prison cell, but a rather nice, clean one. Penelo climbed to her feet, eyes darting around the room. There was a sink and a toilet sectioned off from the rest of the room, and a barred window overlooking the sea. She could hear the coarse guffaws of pirates in the street below and smell the scent of fish—Balfonheim. Penelo opened her mouth to scream for help, but nothing came out.

"It won't do to struggle, my lady. The cell you are in contains a trace amount of Silence Gas. We could not take any chances, I am sorry." A well-dressed man wearing a white mask that looked like a raven's face stood by the door. "You are probably wondering why you are here. As one of Balthier's associates, we could not take the chance that you would try to spring him from our prison without agreeing to our terms."

Penelo lunged at him, but her fist drifted through his head. The man's body flickered slightly. "You are probably wondering why you cannot hurt me. I am a Mist projection. My body lies in a coma brought on by a very special poison, a poison developed eight years ago by a certain Balthier Bunansa. As you can guess, I want to wake up now, but that is impossible without the antidote. You are probably wondering why you should care, why you should not let me and my body rot."

Penelo felt rage rise in the pit of her stomach. This man was irritating her, presuming he knew what she wanted to say and what she was thinking. What made it even more irritating was that he was right.

"In small doses, the poison Balthier developed is like an anesthesia. Enough of it can put the victim into a coma for the rest of their natural life. An overdose leads to death in a matter of days. You are probably wondering why I am telling you this. The answer is behind you." Penelo spun on her heel, staring at the only bed in the cell.

Balthier lie on the bed, as if he were only sleeping. However, a quick check revealed a fever and shallow breathing. The sky pirate was barely alive.

"To give you an incentive to find the antidote, we have administered the lethal amount of poison to his body. He has days to live. You are probably wondering why we have put him in a coma instead of attempting to get the antidote from him. He claims he has forgotten, but I know what a slippery snake he is. Get me the antidote, and we will save your pirate master. If you refuse, he will die."

Penelo nodded mutely, stifling her anger. This man talked too much. His voice, muffled by his raven mask, drilled into her skull like sten needles. She just wanted him to shut up and go away.

"You agree? Excellent. I am sure _you_ know where it is— you and the Viera. We will release you together tomorrow at noon. Don't even _think_ of running away." The man walked out of the room, vanishing through the door. Penelo sank onto the bed, sitting next to Balthier's comatose form. His eyes were slightly open, but they were glazed and vacant. It was as if Balthier was already dead. This was too much, too much!

Penelo did not even know Balthier knew how to make poison. He had never even spoken of poison to her before, or even used the spell for basic poison. As far as she was concerned, to Balthier, poison did not exist.

_Balthier, how well do I know you— the real you?_ she wondered. She knew that he had told Ashe of his past, two years ago on the Phon Coast, but respecting his privacy and his status as Vaan's hero of the moment, she did not ask him of it. Penelo found herself wishing that she had thought to ask. With this thought in mind, she drifted back to sleep, slumping onto the pillow next to Balthier's head.

* * *

Penelo awoke in the morning, stretching and yawning silently.

_Hello, Balthier_, she thought, looking down at his body. _Pity you cannot make a Mist projection of yourself like Raven-mask_. Sunlight streamed in through the window, making everything glow with white light. Even Balthier's face, though pale and unresponsive, seemed to look livelier under the sun than when she had first seen him. The amusement of watching Balthier sleep like a dead man was quickly losing its charm— Penelo gradually grew bored. A shadow passed over the window. Searching for anything to divert her attention, she wandered over to the window, investigating the source of the shadow.

A glossy black raven perched on the windowsill outside, examining her with filmy white eyes. Then, it opened its wings and flew at her. With a mute shriek, she fell over backward as somehow, the raven was in the room. A quick look at the glass revealed that the bird had passed straight through the glass without breaking it. When she turned to look back at the raven, she found that it was not a bird any longer.

The raven was growing larger and larger, changing into a tall, imposing figure in frayed black robes. A hood drawn up over its head obscured its face, but she caught sight of the thing's hands. They were bones—bleached white human bones. Her breath caught in her throat as the figure turned toward her, and Penelo beheld its face.

A human skull grinned at her, its abyssal gaze staring, unblinking, into the depths of her soul. There was no doubt about it— this—thing—this creature that had come into the room in the guise of a stately raven was Death himself.

"Good morning," Death said calmly in a voice like the wash of the waves on the beach. "Good afternoon. Goodnight. How do you do, Dancing Penelo?"

Penelo was frozen with terror at the sight of Death standing over her, almost cornering her against the wall as he leaned down from his tall, sinuous height to look her in the face. She tore her eyes away from him, but no matter where she looked, she could not escape that abyssal gaze!

"I am sorry— you must be very frightened. It is not every day that I appear before the mortals, so I understand if you are scared. Perhaps this face is a little more comforting?" Death passed his skeleton hand before his face, and Penelo now stared into the face of Vaan. However, a white film covered his eyes, as if he were blind. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. "Do you object to this appearance? Perhaps this one is a little better?" Once again, the skeleton hand passed over Vaan's face, and this time, Balthier smirked at her, watching her with death blind eyes. It was too much for her to bear, and tears began to roll down her face, though still, she could not make a sound.

"I am trying to comfort you, my lady," Death said in Balthier's voice. "It is not every day that you get to see the collection of a human soul. I wish you did not have to see me do this, but Captain Fulton has locked you in the same room as a dying man. It is only natural that I come to collect Balthier's soul." Penelo's eyes widened, and she quickly moved away from the window to stand in front of the bed and Balthier's prone body.

"Are you trying to make a statement, my lady? Do you not wish him to leave? I come to all mortals, sooner or later, and his time simply has come sooner than later." Death said, still using Balthier's voice. He moved toward her, dust and smoke trailing in his wake. When he drew level to her, he pressed a bone finger to her throat, and Penelo felt the Silence spell fade.

"I won't let you take him," she cried, forcing her voice to stop shaking. "He and Fran are our best friends— I won't let you take him. Fulton said Balthier had days to live, not one night. You're here early."

"Am I?" Death asked, smiling. "Don't you think that no one would know the poison they made better than the maker? If Balthier had mixed poison himself, he would have lasted a few days, but Fulton's inept assistants have unknowingly administered double the lethal dose. Balthier's time is up right now. Stand aside, please."

"No. I—I propose an exchange!" Penelo did not know what made her say that. "Fulton's soul in exchange for Balthier's. If I give you Fulton's soul, you let Balthier go!"

Death raised his eyebrows. "You've got guts, girl," he nodded. "It is not every day that a person tries to make a deal with me like that. A soul for a soul— the exchange is fair. I am feeling rather generous today, actually. I will send you to the time when Balthier Bunansa created the poison, in exchange for one more thing."

"What is it?" Penelo narrowed her eyes.

"Normally, the exchange would include your own soul along with Fulton's. However, I am willing to make an exception for you. You're such a pretty girl… instead of sealing the deal with your own soul, why not seal it with a kiss?" Death tilted Penelo's head back with a bone finger under her chin, and pressed his lips to her own in a kiss, still wearing Balthier's face. His lips were cold, like the brush of snow against her face, and as her world turned dark, the last thing she saw was his death blind eyes.

"Well now," Death turned away from where Penelo had been seconds before. "It is not every day that a person willingly accepts a kiss from Death. I suppose I had better stay here and make sure that Fulton does not try to hasten the natural separation of Balthier's soul from his body before Penelo completes her end of the deal." He spread black raven wings, perching on the wooden headboard like a sentinel.

* * *

O_O


	2. Who is Balthier?

Thanks for reviewing, **ElTangoDeRoxanne**! This is another wierd chapter, but don't worry! It will buck up soon, I promise!

* * *

Penelo woke up in an empty alley, though outside of it, men and women ran back and forth in the burning streets. Some were laughing, some were crying, some were screaming, but all were shouting and yelling. Gunshots rang through the air—more people screamed.

"_Shields up, gentlemen! And, for'ard, push!_" someone barked. Penelo poked her head around the corner, peering into the street. She recognized the buildings of Archades immediately, though they were clothed in smoke and leaping flame. It appeared that the people of Old Archades were rioting, spilling out of the stairway leading down into the old city. They were armed with bombs, guns, sticks, stones, rusted swords—anything that could be utilized as a weapon. They swarmed toward the palace rising in the distance, like a promise pointing to the red streaked sky. However, standing in their way was a small contingent of Imperial soldiers armed with large riot shields, and just behind them, a Judge mounted on a Chocobo, his sword drawn and raised high into the air.

"_Heave!_" the Judge shouted, and with a collective grunt, the soldiers, filling the street from one end to the other, pushed forward, shunting the crowd of rioting slum dwellers back down the steps into old Archades. They fled this way and that as the wall of riot shields pushed forward, lest they were trampled under the soldier's feet. More soldiers that flooded the roads from the sides, herding them all to the stairs, pushed those that fled into the alleys back out again. A beggar tried to grab hold of the Chocobo's reins, and the Judge struck him with the flat of his sword. The man fell to the ground, cradling a broken nose. Penelo could not stand it any longer.

"Stop it!" she shouted, moving to help the fallen man, her hand glowing with a Cure spell. "Leave him alone!" Upon studying the Judge closer, she realized that blood spattered his armor and sword. Even though she had made her peace with the Archadians, she could not stand to see them treat others so.

"Out of the way, my lady, lest you want to be pushed back into Old Archades with these people," the Judge snapped. Penelo stood her ground.

"No! I'm looking for someone, and I was told they might be here. I won't leave until I've got them," she said.

"And who might that be?" the Judge turned his Chocobo to the side slightly to better view her through his face mask.

"I search for the Sky Pirate, Balthier!" she announced. The Judge was silent, studying her with his impenetrable mask.

"How do you know that man?" he asked eventually.

"I—" Penelo began, flustered. It had just occurred to her that eight years ago, Balthier had probably been sixteen, only an apprentice pirate just starting out. Why was she in Archades, anyway? She should be in Balfonheim!

"I think it would be best if you came with me, my lady," the Judge said carefully. "Argus!" A soldier turned and saluted smartly. "Take control of the situation and report to me at my home when you are done."

"Yes sir! You heard His Honor!" Argus barked.

"Your Honor…" Penelo began, but the Judge silenced her, shaking his head as he extended a gauntleted hand to her. She took it, and he helped her onto the back of the bird.

"I have many questions for you. All in due time, though. There is plenty of time for idle chatter. For now, we must away."

"If you are arresting me for consorting with known criminals—" Penelo started again, but the Judge interrupted her.

"A _known_ criminal? I think not. The Sky Pirate Balthier is not in any of the Judiciary records, so I would like to know how you claim to know this fellow. As far as I know, he does not exist." They cantered down a quiet street, the screams of the riot fading into the distance. Penelo studied the Judge's back as she hugged his metal bound stomach, a thousand questions running through her head. When they pulled off onto a side street, the Judge dismounted, putting the Chocobo into a tiny private stable beneath a flight of stone steps, and clanked toward the stairs.

"Is this where you live?" Penelo asked curiously. Like most of Archades, the building was built from red stone and reached for the sky. There was a front door on the main road, but then there was this tiny private Chocobo stable and this flight of steps that led up to a presumably private room. Odd, indeed.

"Most of the time, yes. I do live at my ancestral home in the country, occasionally, but what with Father out most of the time and work here in the city, it is more convenient to live here. The Judiciary pays the rent," the Judge said. "However, I cannot, for the life of me, imagine why they made the eye slits in the face masks so small! Going up stairs is bloody ridiculous! If I see a Judge fall down the stairs, protocol be damned, I am taking this helm off before I walk on stairs."

Penelo, despite still being angry at him for striking the unarmed beggar, giggled as she watched the Judge carefully take the stairs one at a time, clinging to the ornate handrail. When he reached the top, he produced a key from a pouch on his belt and unlocked the door.

"Well? Are you going to just stand there, or must I brave the stairs again and carry you up here? I have questions for you, and I am sure you have questions, too." Penelo quickly ran up the stairs, two at a time, and followed the Judge inside.

The two room apartment was respectably sized. There was a kitchen (that looked as if it had been subject to an explosive science experiment), a table for two, a small sofa, and a well-used fireplace vomiting soot onto the hearth. In the other room, she could see a one-man bed, a stand presumably for armor, and a chest of drawers. The windowsill housed a small, leafless gnarled tree, and the corner near the window contained a tall perch. A glossy raven, with milky white eyes, perched there. Penelo's heart jumped into her mouth.

"Please, have a seat, don't mind Deimos over there, he's mostly harmless. Er… tea?" the Judge looked toward the stove, and while she could not see his facial expression, his voice was wary. Penelo found herself wondering if the Judge could even make tea.

"If it is not too difficult," she answered, seating herself on the couch. The Judge set about putting a pot of water on to boil, and went into the other room.

"I'll be right out; I just want to get out of this armor… I never asked for your name, my lady. Please, will you tell me?"

"It's Penelo."

"Penelo…?" he waited expectantly, but she shook her head.

"Just Penelo, I don't have a surname. Everyone at home calls me 'Dancing Penelo', but…" she trailed off.

"Suit yourself, Miss Penelo," the Judge shrugged. "I'm Judge Bunansa, but having people call me that all the time is a thunderous bore. Ffamran Mid Bunansa, at your service."

When he emerged a few minutes later, sans his armor and in a clean, simple white shirt and black leather pants, Penelo almost screamed. An almost obscenely young Balthier strolled into the room barefoot, stretching in a gesture that was so familiar she felt like crying. Nearly everything about him was the same— the same bronze brown hair, burning gold eyes, and serpent thin waist. However, he was paler than she remembered, and his chin pointed with juvenility. Tiny silver bells hanging from a diamond stud replaced the gaudy half twists he wore later in life. He walked to the bookshelf and pulled a small red book from its cranny, flipping through the pages.

"Here," Ffamran handed the book to her, his thin finger on a page. "The entry ends on 'Balial' before going on to 'Baltimere'."

"But—" Penelo began to protest, but the kettle whistled. Ffamran quickly removed it, and opened a drawer to get tealeaves before giving a cry.

"There you are, Balthier!" he exclaimed, reaching a hand inside the drawer. Penelo had to hold her breath to stop from screaming again as he removed his hand, a rather large black snake coiling around his fist and slithering up his arm. It was easily a little over three feet long, though it was not particularly thick. It looped itself around Ffamran's neck, tongue flickering as it looked around with wary jet black eyes. "Balthier is mostly harmless, too, but I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him. He's a hooded spitting cobra." Ffamran sounded prideful as the snake continued winding around his neck and arm, eventually crawling into his shirt. She could see the creature moving about inside.

"Aren't they very poisonous? Aren't you afraid he'll bite?" Penelo gasped. Ffamran dropped a small packet of tealeaves into his pot and set it on the table with two mugs. Balthier the black serpent slithered partway out of his sleeve as Ffamran put the mugs down, and Penelo felt goose bumps rise on her arms.

"Not particularly," the young Judge stroked the snake's scaly head with one finger. "He's very helpful. Deimos, too."

"So the reason you were curious is because Balthier is not a sky pirate, he's your pet snake?" Penelo deadpanned.

"Balthier is a snake, yes, but a famous sky pirate? Not yet. He will be, though. How do you know about him? His existence is a secret in Archades."

"I am a friend," Penelo hazarded, wrapping her hands around a mug, and Ffamran cocked his head, studying her with careful eyes.

"Balthier doesn't have friends, only enemies and acquaintances. Who are you really, Dancing Penelo?" he asked. Penelo glanced back at the raven, Deimos, who spread his wings and croaked. Ffamran took a long drink of tea, his sharp eyes never leaving her.

"I'm who I say I am. I'm from the future, where I know you—Balthier." Penelo said at last. Deimos gave a laughing caw, flapping into the air to perch on Ffamran's shoulder, while the boy scowled.

"And my mother was a bangaa," he retorted. "I don't believe you. Are you one of the other Judge's girls, sent here to play pranks on me? Or… perhaps they have gotten wind of my illicit activities, and sent you to find me out." Deimos screeched, flapping his wings and rising into the air as Ffamran stood, slowly making his way around the table to stand behind her shoulder. "Yes?" His fingers caressed under her chin, tilting her head back to look him in the eyes. She felt the oily, rough scales of a snake glide over the pit of her throat, and she shivered as she saw Balthier slipping out of Ffamran's sleeve.

"No!" she croaked, struggling to control her terror. "Damn you, Balthier, I'm trying to help you! Now stop being a jerk, get out of creepy mode, and listen to me!"

Ffamran blinked in surprise, and Deimos settled on his shoulder, studying her with death blind eyes. Before he could recover, she continued, ignoring the feeling of Balthier the cobra exploring her hair. "As I speak, _you_ are dying, the future you! If you don't help me, _you_ are going to be killed by your own poison!"

"So you really are from the future!" Ffamran exclaimed. "For _that_ particular field of research I _know_ is a secret. Well, I suppose you know everything about Balthier the sky pirate, _don't_ you?"

"No, not everything." Penelo replied. "I didn't know about you. I thought Balthier had started out as a pirate—I didn't know he was a Judge."

"The fact he is a Judge makes him very useful in pirate circles, to be sure." Ffamran agreed, wincing as Deimos stuck his beak in his ear. "My captain, Fulton, uses me to track the movement of the army so he can evade them."

"Fulton… is your captain?" Penelo's mouth went dry.

"Yes—Lady Penelo, is something wrong?" Ffamran asked, and she saw Balthier the snake rise over her as the boy pressed his hand to her forehead.

"I think there might be," she murmured.


	3. The Games They Play

Thank you, **ElTangoDeRoxanne** and **emeraldonyxdragon**! Excuse moi if I wander in this story a bit because it is one of my first stories where I actually made up the plot myself... but once again, I shall wave the flag that says, "Anything recognizable _clearly_ belongs to Square Enix, and not me." I only own the plot.

* * *

"You look quite ill," Ffamran informed her, stroking Balthier the snake anxiously. Penelo rubbed at her eyes.

"I'm _fine_," she insisted, finishing the last of her tea and standing. "I just need to rest, that is all. I've had a hard day."

"You can have my room," he said, opening the door and giving her a courteous bow, but Penelo shook her head.

"I couldn't—" she began, but Ffamran winked.

"Indulge me; it would be ungentlemanly for me to take the bed and leave you my hard little chair to sleep in. You can borrow some of my clothes if you need to."

Sighing, Penelo gave in, edging into his bedroom and closing the door behind her. Her eyes immediately began traveling around the room. Compared to the room the leading man she knew occupied, they were actually not too different. Despite Balthier's flamboyant looks, his quarters in the _Strahl_ were very simple, the most elaborate things contained within being his clothing. Ffamran was no different— his wardrobe was a simple oak wardrobe, though inside, there were several sets of black leather garments for wearing under armor, and expensive articles. Curiously, she examined his Judge's armor, looking at the elaborate black sword and shield put on a stand.

Basch had once told her that all the Judge's swords were slightly different, so that they could be identified. Ffamran's sword was completely black but for a little silver inlay on the hilt, and it had some sort of filigree made in red metal trailing along the length of the blade. The shield bore the same sort of design, but it looked different, somehow. With a little imagination, it almost looked like writing in some ancient language. Likely it was—Basch said that many swords had spells written into them for power or the like, but strangely, this sword had no magick resonance. Ffamran was an odd young boy, no doubt about it.

Penelo tore herself away from contemplating the sword when she heard voices in the next room.

"Sir, the rioters have been subdued, and there have been no fatalities on our side," a crisp voice said. Penelo recognized it as Argus, the soldier Ffamran left in charge of cleaning up the riot.

"Good. What of their side?" Ffamran asked.

"None. Your idea of using riot shields and staves rather than bucklers and swords spared many lives. I am not sure whether that will bode well with Judge Magister Bergen, but the riot is over." Argus returned.

"I am relieved."

"By the way, did you hear that Judge Magister Felmarz, one of the men helping your father with his nethicite research, was killed in a raid by sky pirates just off of Bhujerba?"

"Oh dear… my condolences to his family." Ffamran drawled.

"Captain, what are you thinking about?" Argus sounded suspicious.

"Don't think too hard, Argus, or you will hurt your head," was the purred reply. "I will lead the investigation myself, never fear. Goodnight and good work."

"Thank you, Captain."

The door shut, and there was the sound of a chair being drawn back and someone sinking into it.

"He's on to you, Ffamran," a voice said, and Penelo recognized the voice of Cidolphus Demen Bunansa. "He'll find out soon. Argus has come very well into his namesake, hasn't he?"

"The thousand-eyed watcher, yes, I know the tale and—you know better than to take that face around me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is this better?" Cidolphus's voice changed, becoming Ffamran's own. Ffamran himself remained quiet for a moment, before continuing.

"Much. And now, onto the matter of this experiment."

"You did not see if Penelo was asleep."

"What do I care? What can she do?"

"She is trying to save your future self. She might try to change the future—stop you from creating this weapon."

"So it's a weapon now, is it?"

"Is that not how you intended it?"

"…This is for the _Strahl_, and _her_."

"Ah… the woman you met in the Judiciary dungeons yesterday?"

Penelo peered through the keyhole, and her heart almost stopped when she saw Ffamran sitting at the table with several scientific looking apparatuses. However, it was not Ffamran the scientist that frightened her—it was the fact that Death stood over him, standing behind his chair, helping him with his research. Death was wearing Ffamran's face, but there was no mistaking him because of his bony hands and black robes.

"What do you intend on doing with all this, boy?" Death picked up a beaker filled with a clear substance, and held it up to his eye level.

"I am going to get my freedom!" Ffamran hissed, picking up Balthier and forcing the snake's mouth open over a special vial for collecting venom. The plink of the snake's toxins was loud in the room. "Damn Fulton for taking my ship, especially after all I'd done for him. I even told him of the Magicite shipment from Bhujerba so that he could organize that raid. And what has he left me? Nothing—I never got any of the treasure that _I_ worked for so that _he_ could sit back and grow fat on my efforts in _my_ ship. All I get is a windfall of paperwork and a hell of a time trying to pretend I don't know anything. And now Felmarz is dead. There will be an investigation, and how am I supposed to keep up my front? Especially if any of the clues point to me? No… in one month's time, the poison will be mature enough. Balthier's pathetic bite will become a kiss of death."

"One month is a long time," Death whispered in Ffamran's ear. "I can make it faster and stronger. What do you say? It's not every day that I offer a mortal a deal like _this_."

Ffamran's eyes gleamed in the darkness. "What is the price, Death?"

"I am feeling generous. You are such a wily hume… why not a quarter of your soul, rather than all of it?"

"Done."

There was a flash of light and a low cry, then the sound of Death chuckling as he held a white, glowing object in his hand. "Come, Balthier, feast on your master's soul." Penelo stifled a gasp as the god held out the glowing fragment to the snake, and rearing up, the cobra devoured it. However, it seemed she had not held down her gasp well enough— Ffamran's head shot up, and he looked toward the door. As quickly as she could, Penelo leaped into the bed and pulled the covers up over her head, just as Ffamran opened the door. Death, back in his disguise as Deimos the raven, perched on the boy's head.

"I must have imagined it…" he muttered, shutting the door again.

* * *

Penelo sat across the table from Ffamran silently, studying him. He was still asleep, slumped over the table with his head in his arms. No doubt, he was tired from last night's encounter with Death. Deimos was nowhere to be found, and Balthier was coiled up next to his face, watching Penelo docilely. Somehow, the snake seemed more intelligent than when she first met it, but she reminded herself that the creature now contained a fragment of the very fabric of its owner's being. Of course, Balthier was more intelligent.

When the clock struck seven, Penelo gently shoved Ffamran's shoulder, and he groaned quietly.

"Don't you have somewhere to be? Work, perhaps?" she whispered. She had to get him out of the apartment, so she could search for his notes on the poison.

"Hm? What time is it?" Ffamran asked sleepily.

"Seven o'clock."

"Oh, Heth!" Ffamran leaped to his feet, his joints cracking with stiffness, and Balthier hissed angrily as he was unceremoniously dumped to the floor. "I'm late! I have to go to work, Lady Penelo, but I'll be back soon. Have fun with Deimos, good luck controlling _him_. Oh, and don't let Balthier out, please. I don't really know what I'd do if I lost him..."

_Especially now_, Penelo thought wryly, watching the snake investigate nooks and crannies as if seeing them for the first time. Five minutes later, Ffamran came clanking out of his room in full armor, and she heard him cursing about helms and eye-slits as he sprinted down the stairs. Then it was silent.

Quietly, she got to her feet, careful not to step on Balthier as she made her way to the bookshelf. There were books on airships, a few on magicite, and volumes on herpetology and ornithology— whatever those were. A quick look revealed they were about snakes and birds. Go figure. There was the red book of criminals that Ffamran had shown her yesterday, but nothing on poison. Penelo sighed.

"How am I supposed to help you when I don't even know how to start?" she asked no one in particular. She was shocked when a voice like the wash of waves on the beach answered.

"I see you have found our secret, dear Penelo." Death stood behind her, grinning at her with his bleached white skull.

"I made a deal with you in the future. You shall not touch me," she whispered.

"I know," he replied simply. "I see all—past, future, present—it is all mine." Penelo blinked.

"Have you come to help me, or hinder me?" she asked. Death passed a hand before his face, and Ffamran smirked at her from under his smoky black hood.

"I thought you might want company."

Penelo turned back to the bookshelf, conscious of the god standing in the room with her. She was being too obvious, she knew. Balthier slithered over her bare foot, and she absently moved it in order to allow him better access to the bookshelf. What if Ffamran disguised his notes? Her hand hovered over a small black diary before she pulled it from the shelf. Death's cold lips tickled her ear.

"Now now, my dear, you should know better than to look through someone's private diary." Penelo ignored him, opening the pages. Balthier hissed disdainfully, winding back to his home under the gnarled tree on Ffamran's windowsill.

Ffamran's handwriting was not particularly neat, but it was still legible. However, it seemed like he had been angry as he wrote the entry, holes poked in the paper where he had pressed too hard with his pen.

_Father is quite mad. I am sick of hearing him speak to that Venat he invented like the most intimate of lovers_, she read. _Did he not care about Mother? Did he not love her? Does he not love_ me_? His own son? When I last visited him at Draklor, he paid as much attention to me as he does the Senate—that is to say, none at all. Perhaps I am being punished for killing Mother upon my birth. I ripped my way out of her and destroyed her, after all. Death follows close at my heels wherever I go. I am lucky Balthier is such a faithful friend. _

… _Ffamran Mid Bunansa_

The next entry was writ in a shaky scrawl, and many words were smeared. It took some deciphering to read what he wrote.

_Vayne killed his brothers today. He denies it in public but I know the truth. I made the poison that killed them. I did not know what it was going to be used for. I feel quite sick right now… but I had no choice. Vayne can potentially expose my research, and then what? I can see Ghis now: "One-hundred years in the dungeons for illegal drug research, boy! And another century for helping to commit regicide!" Why do they give such long sentences, anyway? It's not like I'll actually live that long. And please, there is a difference between toxicology and all _that._ I am afraid… and I hate to admit it, but I am afraid of Vayne. One day… will my fangs be able to reach him? _

Penelo was sure that Ffamran would be happy to know that yes, one day his fangs would reach Vayne.

"Death," she spoke aloud, turning and forcing herself to meet his milky blind eyes. "Why are you helping him? What have you to gain?"

Death tilted his head, smiling an ugly smile. For a moment, the illusion wavered, Ffamran's face turning ash grey and his hair fading to pure white. Penelo backed against the wall as the deathly visage approached, all the while smiling a wolf's smile.

"My dear," his lips brushed her collarbone. "I have been upon this world ever since life was created, for I am in opposition to all that is living. Don't you think I would get a little… bored?" She felt the bones of Death's hand caress the underside of her chin. "Toying with the mortals is _my_ way of having fun, for don't you think that the gods like to play games, too?"

"It's cruel," Penelo argued, though her skin was aquiver with terror. The tiny hairs on her neck were standing straight as soldiers. "Promising people things and then condemning their souls for it—"

"Condemning?" Death asked, raising his hand, and Penelo could not stop the little shriek from escaping when she realized he held Balthier, writhing and hissing, in his bony hand. "I'm not condemning anyone. Ffamran's soul is right here. Go on, take it—he only _might_ bite. As promised, I've made the poison Ffamran created stronger and shortened the preparation time. All I had to do was add a fragment of his soul, for isn't the greatest creation made when the maker puts his own heart and soul into it?"

"Isn't that just a figure of speech?" Penelo asked. "They aren't meant to be taken seriously."

"All figures came from truth. Just twist them a little here and there… and there you have it. Balthier the sky pirate was once Ffamran the judge, and still is, in a way. If you took him a little more seriously, and did not dismiss his faked light-heartedness as a simple act of sarcasm, you might see what truly lies beneath."

"What lies beneath?" she repeated, but Death quickly returned to his disguise as Deimos, flapping at her and cawing mockingly before turning and flying out the window. "Gods and their penchant for riddles," Penelo sighed, shaking her head. The clock chimed midday, and she opened Ffamran's pantry with the intention of making some sort of lunch for herself.

It quickly became clear that the young Judge did not know how to cook, or at least not very well, because his larder was not at all well stocked. She opened a small stone box with runes for ice carved on the lid and sides for refrigeration, but all it contained (she wrinkled her nose) was some dead frogs and rats. Penelo quickly replaced the lid and shoved it back in its place. There was a small basket of food from someone named J.M. Drace, with a small card attached reading,

_To Ffamran, because I know that you cannot cook to save your life, so if I don't at least give you something edible you will wither away to skin and bones or kill yourself with your horrible cooking. J. M. Drace._

Penelo giggled a little at this and had a little of the preserved meat and fruit for lunch before settling down on the couch. Frankly, she was quite bored. There was nothing to do but wait for Ffamran to come home, and watching Balthier snooze was quickly losing its entertainment value. For a while, she almost wished that Death would come back from doing whatever he did when he left the apartment, just for the intelligent company, but remembered feel of his fingers upon her and decided she did not want him to come back quite yet…

She woke up when the front door opened, rubbing her eyes and looking at the clock. It was nearly five, and Penelo could not even remember falling asleep. Ffamran came through the door, followed by an even larger metal behemoth with a helm adorned with curling horns. Penelo sat up very quickly, staring at Judge Magister Gabranth.

"Well now, is this another girl you've caught, Judge Ffamran?" Gabranth asked dryly, setting his load down on the table and looking at Penelo.

"I didn't catch her, rather, she caught me," Ffamran said mischievously, and Penelo could almost see his roguish smile shining through his helm. "Lady Penelo, His Honor Gabranth is joining us for supper, if you don't mind. I'm afraid I had to… bring work home with me."

"Did something happen?" Penelo asked, all but glaring at Gabranth. He was Basch's brother, she knew, and the famed Kingslayer of Dalmasca. She almost accused him of it right then and there, but realized that it would be five years from this time before Gabranth committed the crime.

"Well… in a few days, Her Majesty Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca will be visiting Archades with her esteemed father, and I have been assigned to be one of her guards for the duration of her stay," he replied proudly.

"What does any of that have to do with bringing Judge Magister Gabranth home with you?"

"I've only ever guarded Larsa before—" Ffamran began, but Gabranth cut him off.

"You mean, you helped him escape the palace and 'guarded' him in the Sochen Cave Palace with nothing but your shield because he was 'playing' with your sword?" the Magister said flatly.

"I killed two Imps and a Striker with my shield, and I got a medal for it," Ffamran muttered dejectedly, his shoulders slumping. "Anyway, His Honor Gabranth is here to teach me how to deal with foreign royalty, especially Lady Ashelia, because from what I've heard, she's… a royal pain in the plate armor, quoting Judge Drace."

"That's putting it _very_ politely for our company," Gabranth said, removing his helm. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Penelo."

She was not sure if she was pleased to make his.


	4. The Lay of Balthier

Good morning, all! I finally got around to updating this; I actually finished this at midnight last night but I hated how it looked so it underwent major editing. It's a little better now...

I agree with **emeraldonyxdragon** that Ffamran and Balthier (the pirate, not the snake) are almost like two different people; however in this story, the line is a little more blurred because this is more like the transition from the Judge to the pirate. As we know from Chapter 2, Ffamran/Balthier (he's having a bit of an identity crisis) is already working for a pirate captain while acting as a spy in the Magistery. We'll still be seeing some of Ffamran's cheery personality, but we'll also see some of Balthier's cruelty start to show up, too.

**Tango-chan:** Death is a rather fun character to write; he's also rather twisted himself. I think he does care for Ffamran in a wierd, big-brotherly sort of way, though. We'll see more of their interesting relationship later... I like Death, too.

* * *

She had the vague feeling that she was floating through the air, until she felt the thin, but strong arms supporting her legs and shoulders, heard the harried breath rattling in a narrow chest, and the slight bumping rhythm of someone walking awkwardly. Ffamran eased her into the bed, and she felt the brush of Balthier against her face and heard Ffamran's quiet muttering to the snake about touching sleeping people.

"'M not… 'sleep…" Penelo struggled to say, and he laughed, stroking a few stray hairs away from her face with warm fingers.

"Gabranth left, and you were so tired you did not even notice," he said quietly. "It is alright—sleep now, there is someone rather important I would like you to meet tomorrow." Penelo tried to protest, but her limbs were like lead. She did not even hear Ffamran leave the room.

The next morning, she walked into the room to find Ffamran crashed on the couch, curled under a thin blanket. Deimos perched on his head disdainfully, lifting first one foot and then the other. Penelo shooed the bird away, touching the boy's shoulder, but he only muttered sleepily about airships and Moogles before turning over. Deimos gave him a savage peck on the temple, and Ffamran flung the covers off, clutching his head.

"Good gods, I'm up, damn bird!" he roared, snatching at the raven, but it flew out of reach. "Good morning, Miss Penelo," he said in a much more reasonable tone.

"Who are we going to meet today?" Penelo asked, stepping back to allow him room to stand and stretch.

"A very, very special lady," Ffamran replied, wandering semi-blind toward the kitchen and poking around for something remotely edible. Balthier hissed at him from his place under the tree, and the boy groped about the pantry until he found his box of frogs and mice. Penelo averted her eyes as the black snake devoured a frog whole, his body bulging around the amphibian's girth. "She's a Viera. We picked her up a few days ago when she was wandering around Nilbasse without her proper papers."

Penelo pieced together the information, surmising it was likely Ffamran was talking about Fran. Was this how they met, all those years ago? The young Judge ran his hands through his hair, which was far from its usual neat, orderly rows. Penelo stifled a giggle; he looked as if he had put his head into a desert cyclone.

"What?" he asked peevishly, glaring at her with groggy eyes. "Gabranth left late last night, and you _know_ how Landisians are when they drink." It was true, of course. The one time she had seen Basch drunk at a party after Dalmasca's liberation, he had done a very memorable performance of the Dalmascan National Anthem, involving an equally drunk Moogle.

"When will we go?" Penelo asked, sliding into the chair across from him.

"After muster and training," Ffamran replied.

"Could I come?"

"…It's not very pretty."

* * *

Penelo winced from where she sat on a bench as Judge Magister Bergan scattered the other lesser Judges across the training yard like ten-pins. She could not really tell which was Ffamran, but she quickly caught sight of the red filigree on his naked blade and locked her eyes onto him. He struggled to his feet after being knocked down, catching a brutal stroke on his shield, then his sword flickered forward, fast as a serpent's tongue. Bergan disarmed him with careless ease, then his sword sang toward Ffamran's head. Penelo covered her mouth as Ffamran's helm rolled away in the dust of the training yard and the boy sprawled in the dirt, vomiting and clutching his bleeding temple. An ugly bruise was spreading over his brow bone and cheek. Bergan chuckled cruelly, brushing off the butt of his blade.

"Dis_missed!_" he barked, tucking his sword under one arm and marched away. Several of the other Judges made to kneel next to their fallen comrade, calling his name, but Bergan whipped back to face them like an enraged Reever. "Leave the stupid sod be, fools. A man who can't lick his own wounds does not belong in this army." Shuffling their feet, the other Judges left the courtyard, leaving Ffamran to bleed in the dust.

"Balthier—oh!" The name slipped out before Penelo could stop herself, but Ffamran only shook his head slightly, holding down another retch. She helped him sit up slowly, brushing away the worst of his bruise with a Curaga spell.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he muttered, wiping some blood from the corner of his lip and spitting a glob of blood-flecked saliva to the ground. Penelo was unsure whether he was talking about the sudden glimpse into the darkest reaches of his heart, or about the trouble he was causing her by having to be healed. "Everyone hates it when Bergan is on shift for training."

"It's okay, I guess," Penelo helped him to his feet, catching him when he staggered slightly, and placing his helm into his shaking hands. "Can I ask you something?"

Ffamran blinked through the sticky coat of blood drying on his head, wincing as it cracked. "You just did, but ask away." He produced a handkerchief and commenced scrubbing it away.

"Why are you going through all this trouble with the poison? Why can't you just run? Are you trying to poison Cid?" Penelo asked.

"That is a subject best broached in private confines, not in the heart of the Imperial Enforcement Grounds," he said easily, evading her question as he led her toward the small jail block. "I will tell you this, though," he whirled, pinning her against the wall and leaning toward her as if about to plant her with a kiss. Instead, he whispered in her ear: "I already escaped one cage… I just found another that _looks_ free. Cid can go rot."

"You're here on Fulton's orders," Penelo realized, closing her eyes and leaning her chin on his metal plated shoulder when a harried looking cadet scrambled past them in the hallway. The boy hastily averted his eyes when he came upon the "enraptured" couple in the corridor.

"Yes. I cover his tracks and spy on the movement of the Imperials; didn't I tell you all this already?"

"It wasn't as clear."

Chuckling darkly, Ffamran turned away from her to continue down the hall, until he finally stopped in front of a brightly lit cell. Stammering something in a stilted, awkward tongue, he bowed. Penelo peered over his shoulder.

Fran sat in the cell, her feet crossed neatly at the ankles, her hands folded in her lap. Her purple white hair spilled halfway down her back like a waterfall, rippling as she shook her head slightly and corrected Ffamran's Vieran.

"Did you bring him?" Fran asked when Ffamran showed no improvement, his Archadian accent thick even when attempting foreign language.

"Yes," Ffamran gave up his botched attempt at Vieran and removed his gauntlet, allowing Balthier the serpent to poke his head out. "I took a beating from Bergan because I could not move my shield arm without the possibility of hurting him."

"Who is the girl?"

"She is trustworthy, that is all either of us need to know. Everything is in place; tonight we make our move." Ffamran murmured. Fran held her hand out to the snake, calling to him in Vieran, and Balthier wound himself around her wrist, opening his hood and hissing at her.

"Brash hume-child; do not tell me what to do," Fran said without heat. The boy-judge colored at her teasing, watching her long fingers caress Balthier's black scales and creamy white underbelly. "We should make for Balfonheim; with the amount of crime and piracy in the city, we will not be caught. I also understand that is where your captain and his ship is?"

"If all goes as planned, Fulton will be my captain no longer, and his ship will be _mine_ once more." Ffamran said fiercely. Fran nodded, pursing her lips as she stowed Balthier away under her straw pallet. Turning back to him, she said something in slow Vieran that made the boy scrunch his brow in concentration. "Er… don't be hasty?"

"Yes."

* * *

Penelo erased the last of Ffamran's bruises with careful ministrations. He still had not told her how to save his future self; the first thing he did was polish his sword and shield, then eat a hasty meal and go to bed. When he woke up from his nap, he immediately put his armor back on and rode his Chocobo back to the prison, Penelo in tow. It was midnight.

Deimos soared behind them like a smoky shadow, darting in and out of the cold moonlight. Penelo looked back at him, and he cawed at her menacingly.

"I was going to tell you something, but it slipped my mind," Ffamran eventually broke the silence.

"Does it have to do with pois—"

"Listen. _With sword in hand, to my enemies I grant eternal sleep; with shield in hand, I safeguard my life. Zalera's hand is yet to extinguish my flaming vitality._ The lay of Balthier, outlaw hero of the ancient days. It's very important, please do not forget it."

"Ffamran, I am trying to help you. You do realize your future self is dying, right?" Penelo tightened her grip about his middle, and he sighed.

"The walls have ears, my lady." Penelo looked around at the walls, as if expecting to see ears blooming out of them, but there was no sound but for the Chocobo's feet on the cobblestone road. "Besides, I just helped you."

"Bal—Ffamran," she corrected herself. "I've never been good at riddles. The future you even calls me _dense_ at times, though he says I'm not as dense as Vaan."

"You'll figure it out, don't worry. When you get back to the future, find Fran; she'll probably be able to solve the riddle. I'll try to make things as easy for you to figure out as possible."

_You could just tell me how to make the antidote,_ Penelo thought glumly, glaring at the back of Ffamran's helm. She was not sure that he should be gallivanting about carrying out his dastardly plans, what with his concussion and all, but when she brought this up, he insisted he was fine. Tomorrow, Ashe would arrive in Archades and he would lose this perfect chance to escape forever.

He quickly led the way down the hall toward Fran's cell, but pulled up short. There was a dull _clunk_ as Penelo walked into his metal-clad back.

"Good evening, Your Honor." Argus stood up from where he sat in front of Fran's cell. "What are you doing here? Out for a stroll? Rather bleak place to be wandering about with your sweetheart, isn't it?"

"I forgot something here, that's all. I'll just collect it and be on my way. Why do I need to answer to you, anyway?"

"Are you looking for your snake? How did it get here, I wonder?" Argus held up his hand, and Penelo saw the shining, scintillating black band wrapped around his gauntleted fist. Ffamran gasped, taking a step forward, then stopped.

"I wonder, too. He probably slipped into my bag when I wasn't looking… he likes Viera, you see? Now, if I could just have him back…"

"What makes you think I'll give him back, Ffamran Mid Bunansa Archades? Or do you call yourself Balthier now, the black snake of Captain Fulton the Sky Pirate?" Argus's voice was laced with scorn as he studied the serpent in his hands. "How far the nobility have fallen. I won't give you this snake back, Balthier. It is evidence for your crimes against the empire; I know you were responsible for the death of Judge Magister Felmarz. I knew it the moment I saw your cold face. You're still young, boy; you let your eyes betray your heart."

Ffamran cursed and drew his sword, holding his shield at a defensive angle, before charging at Argus. "Penelo! Get Fran out… the keys are on the wall by the door!" Penelo rushed to do as he told her, but to her horror, found that she did not know which key opened Fran's cell.

"Give them here, girl," Fran's exotic tones interrupted her frenzied search for the right key. Penelo was almost ashamed to see how easily the Viera picked the correct key from the thick key ring, and took it back from her, blushing. "The lock is complex; are you sure you can open it?"

"I… I think I can manage," Penelo mumbled, until she saw the horrific amount of pins sticking out of the lock.

"Depress the correct pins and insert the key, then the door will open." Fran explained patiently, calm despite the battle between Ffamran and Argus in the background. Penelo bit back a squeak as Argus smacked into the wall next to her after being bashed by Ffamran's shield. He made to rise again, but stopped, instead drawing a pencil thin dagger and holding it over Balthier's head. The snake hissed at the glimmering shaft.

"Don't move, any of you, or the snake dies!" Argus bellowed. They froze. He laughed darkly, panting. "I know how important this snake is to you, boy. It has a fragment of your soul inside. If the snake dies, you'll lose another part of yourself and be barely more than a husk of who you once were." The needle-like dagger prodded the snake's skin, and Ffamran tightened his grip on his sword. Penelo closed her eyes, begging him not to do anything foolish. To her surprise, he began to chant a spell.

_Oh Heth, Lord of the Dark_

_Rise from the Deepness_

_And Conquer this Living Ivalice;_

_Turn the Traitor to Your will to dust_

_And drag him with you back to the depths._

The spell seized Argus in the guts, doubling him over as he gasped for fleeting breath. Out of the soldier's own shadow, Death rose, bony hands reaching for him and wrapping about his face and torso. Argus's mouth stretched in a silent scream as a white veil swirled over his eyes, a faint white and gold mist rising from his mouth. Death laughed, opening his own skeletal jaws, and swallowed the cloud of mist, pulling the corpse within his own insubstantial body and devouring it in shadow. Balthier the snake fell to the floor, slithering toward Fran.

"I was wondering if you'd ever use the spell I gave you," Death said, a tiny wisp of gold mist drifting out of his jaws. He quickly sucked it back in.

"Yes, well, it was an emergency," Ffamran replied curtly, opening Fran's cell. Penelo was embarrassed when all he did was grab all the pins in one hand, depressing them all at once, and unlock the door. "We are taking the next airship into Balfonheim; Fulton thinks I'm coming to give him more information and has arranged private cabins on the two o'clock flight. It will be making a little side trip to Rabanastre, so we'll have time to… take care of business."

He led them at a quick pace to the aerodrome, Death perching on his shoulder as a night black raven. Penelo scowled; after eating Argus's soul, the raven seemed a little bigger, a little glossier, and ten times more smug then he had before. Ffamran hissed through his teeth as Deimos nipped at his earrings with his sharp beak.

No one questioned a Judge's sudden need to go to Balfonheim at two o'clock in the morning, and they allowed him to bypass all the security checkpoints easily, not even giving Fran a second look. Balthier poked his head out of a hip pack Fran carried, his tongue flicking out and tasting the air of the new environment. As soon as they were on the airship, Ffamran stripped all his armor off.

"What are you doing?" Penelo asked as she caught his helm. Fran took it from her and stuffed the bag with Balthier in it inside, closing the visor and stretching a cloth over the opening for the head. Ffamran stretched, now wearing only the black leather that Judges wore under their armor.

"Getting rid of this ridiculous get up," he said, walking to the window and prying it open. Wind screamed through the room, responding to the pressure change, and Fran helped Ffamran throw all his armor out the window, down toward the Salikawood below. Even the helm, Balthier inside, went plummeting.

"Ffamran, what are you _doing_?" Penelo grabbed his arm. Ffamran smirked devilishly.

"Not Ffamran, not anymore. I'm Balthier now."


	5. The Sand Rises

Yup, here's chapter five and hurray for updates! It's a lovely snowy day, isn't it? Ah... I love the snow, it makes everything so quiet and muffled, like magic. Well...

Thanks to **authorgal282**, who thinks this story is awesome. Thank you, I'm glad you like it. And then, thanks to **Tango-chan**, who I hope gets the snow day that she was hoping for. Stay warm! Finally, thanks to **dragon-san**. Good to see your internet is back.

* * *

Penelo stared at the young boy dressed only in black leather standing in front of her, wondering if the knock Judge Bergan delivered unto Ffamran's skull had scrambled his brains and should she perhaps administer some smelling salts to him? Fran shook her head faintly as she helped him battle the raging wind in the cabin to pull the window shut, muttering something about humes under her breath in Vieran.

Ffamran, who apparently now decided to ascend to his namesake "Balthier", allowed his sly smirk to fade. "Penelo, I do not want to be known as the spineless judge of Archades anymore. Balthier can stand up for himself and be respected—can Ffamran ever say the same?" Penelo stared into his eyes, searching for the faintest tell that would reveal the joke. She waited for him to smile and laugh, say he was just fooling about and that he didn't mean any of it, but he didn't, and his silence was all she needed.

She couldn't face this stranger—she thought she knew Ffamran well, and she thought she knew Balthier, too— calm, collected, and nonchalant Balthier, who could be so kind and, well, _nice_ but so very, very mean. The eyes watching her belonged to a stranger; they were like gold marbles, cold and calculating.

"I need some air," she managed to say. Balthier shrugged, pulling a dart from his boot sheathe and examining it. The way the light played off it was wrong somehow, as if the dart was coated in something that devoured the light and reflected a mockery of it back.

"Don't fall off the ship," was all he answered with, showing the dart to Fran and questioning her about something in broken Vieran and Archadian. As Penelo shut the door, she heard Fran say,

"You are improving."

In a strange, dazed way, she managed to make her way to the observation deck, and leaned on the rail, watching the world whirl by below her. Mulling over his words, she decided she could see his point; his diary revealed a boy filled with fear and insecurity. His family crumbled away from around him, and a new family had come to fill its place: a family of pirate cutthroats and thieves, perhaps each and every one of them as bad as Bergan. It was unsurprising that Ffamran had seen himself as spineless—unable to deal with either situation, he ran from one to the other, and finally ran from all of them together. Today would be the day; he was going to try something against Fulton, she could almost taste the plots in the air.

"Lady Penelo?" Balthier's honeyed voice behind her nearly startled her into falling from the airship, and his hand scrabbling at the back of her tight bustier was the only thing stopping her from tumbling into space. "I'm sorry; I scared you, didn't I?"

"It's alright," she hastily.

"I wanted to ask if you remembered the passage I told you to memorize." Balthier raised his head to soak in the sun lazily, like a cat absorbing the warm rays.

"It was something about defending yourself with your shield and attacking with your sword." Penelo replied, rubbing her forehead. "I'm afraid I don't remember all of it. Zalera is not important, is he?"

"No, he's not. Good enough," he grinned, admiring the view of Balfonheim spreading out below them. "Deimos says that you are going to be leaving soon."

"I am?"

"He wants to talk to you; he is waiting in the cabin. Fran is in the sky saloon, though what she is doing there, I cannot imagine…" Balthier trailed off, absorbed in watching a battle between two charybterix break out on the Cerobi Steppes in the distance. However, Penelo did not miss the sharp, predatory glint in his glass marble eyes, as he dissected every aspect of his latest fiendish plan in his head. She turned away, fear stirring just under her skin, though whether she was afraid for him or of him, she was not sure.

* * *

"So Ffamran gave you my summons, then?" Death lazily leaned against the wall of the cabin, wearing Ffamran's face as usual. She was shocked for a moment when she realized that every aspect of him, from the black leather clothes he wore, was a copy of the boy. Even his eyes, usually white with blindness, were clear as a cloudless day.

"What's all this?" Penelo asked, frowning.

"Insurance," Death replied. "Once Fulton has what he wants from Ffamran, there will be no need from him and he will be… disposed of. I am to ensure a clean getaway. Your time here is almost up, dear Penelo; but I thought I might let you see the end to this tragic little play."

Penelo knotted her hands in her loose trousers, her eyes widening as his words sank in. "Tragic? What's going on?"

"It wouldn't do to give away the ending, eh?" Death turned away from her, tapping his fingers against the small desk in the room, brushing his hand over the tiny decorative hourglass on the tabletop, examining the painting hanging over the desk.

"You're as bad as Balthier when it comes to giving straight answers," Penelo grumped, turning away from him and leaving, only to walk headlong into Balthier as he dashed into the room, not even blinking at the sight of his twin.

"Penelo, take Fran and get out of here, hide somewhere—quickly! Deimos, the time has come; let us see how well we can play our charades," he panted. "Things are not going as planned—Fulton is here in person! He meant to catch me unawares, but I'll get him instead…" There was a loud bang in the hallway, and someone screamed while voices filled the hall. A crowd of men swarmed at the doorway, but pushing past them was the familiar white bird mask.

Fulton stepped out from between his cronies, his stiff white suit unruffled despite the heaving mass of men at the door, a gun propped jauntily on his shoulder in a way that was hauntingly similar to the way Penelo had seen Balthier hold his gun at ease.

"A, such a _wonderful_ coincidence in meeting you here, Ffamran," Fulton seemed as if he were smiling behind his mask, a benevolent plague doctor coming to visit his dying patient. The boy twitched in annoyance. "I was going to wait in Balfonheim for you to give me the ingredients for the poison weapon, but seeing as you're here, why not hand them over now?"

Penelo's eyes darted toward Balthier, and to her surprise, one of the doppelgangers had vanished; the remaining one stood stalk still, alone in the center of the room. Fulton's eyes gleamed and he leveled his gun toward Balthier's chest, one handed. For a moment, Penelo imagined the Balthier she knew was standing there, but the image was quickly dispelled as the captain's voice turned cold.

"If you don't hand it over, this may get a little bit painful."

"Yes, sir," Balthier mumbled, taking a small vial from his pocket and placing it into his master's outstretched hand. Fulton closed his fingers about it triumphantly, then turned back to the boy.

"Now, forgive me, Ffamran, but there's only room for one leading man in this fiction, and that is me. Goodbye, spineless judge." There was a loud bang, and time stopped.

Fulton's arm was slightly bent with recoil, and there was a bullet frozen in space, halfway into Balthier's chest—no not Balthier, there were black feathers on his arms and legs and shoulders; it was Death. Hanging in the air inches away from Fulton's exposed neck was a tiny dart, glimmering in the weak light—Balthier was in the doorway, just behind the immobile mass of men, a tiny blowgun pressed to his mouth. His glass marble eyes were cold and cruel; a devilish grin curled his lip. Fran was there too, mouth slightly open in the middle of a spell cast. All the while, the sand in the little hourglass flowed up, and Penelo's world exploded into a whirling maelstrom of sand, filled with the sound of a distantly booming clock.

* * *

Penelo awoke to a chiming clock, sitting up from the bed so quickly that she was almost sick. Looking around, she realized that she was in Balfonheim, back in the white prison room, and had been lying in the single bed next to Balthier. He seemed much taller than she remembered, and his clothing was different—he was wearing a brocade vest and white shirt. She blinked for a minute, baffled by his mature appearance, before realizing that she was back in her own time, and he was dying, dying from his own poison. Deimos perched comfortably on the headboard, preening, and she snatched at him angrily when she found she was again under the influence of the Silence gas in the air.

Deimos transformed back into Death, who grinned at her with his bleached white skull. "Do not be angry for taking you away, my dear, but while it seems several days passed while you were exploring our friend Ffamran's past, only one day passed here. In a few minutes, Fulton will be back to set you loose, to find the antidote with Fran."

Sure enough, Fulton's Mist apparition materialized behind her, wearing his white mask as usual. "Time to go, my dear," he announced, as two burly guards entered the room and tied her hands together. When Fulton turned his back, she could see a tiny pinprick hole in the back of his neck, surrounded by green and purple flesh, like bruise. Internally, she smiled triumphantly—Balthier's dart had hit him, straight and true. But then again, if he _hadn't_ hit his captain with a poison dart, he wouldn't be in all this trouble now. It was hard to tell where he would be if he had not plotted to kill or incapacitate his captain.

They met up with Fran in the building's private hangar, where a small, sleek aircraft was clenched in the docking clamps. It looked a little bit like one of the pictures Penelo had seen in Balthier's room in the _Strahl_, and she recognized the delicate curve of a bat like wing.

"This ship has a tracking device implanted within the navigation system, as well as a rigged self-destruct system. If I should have even the barest reason to suspect that you are trying to escape me, I will blow you out of the sky. You are probably wondering why this ship looks somewhat familiar. It was designed by our friend Balthier Bunansa himself. Be off with you, now, and remember that he only has a day or two to live, now."

Once inside, and in a Silence gas free atmosphere, Penelo turned to Fran.

"I saw his past," she began, and the Viera flicked an ear in surprise. "I made a deal with Death—a journey to the past to see if I could get the recipe for the antidote out of Ffamran in return for a kiss."

"Were you successful?" Fran asked, examining the flight array before her.

"Partially…" Penelo grimaced. "He only gave me a confusing riddle and said you might be able to solve it."

"Let's hear it, then."

Penelo recited the passage from the lay of Balthier; ostensibly less accurate than the eloquent reading Ffamran had given her, and looked at Fran expectantly. To her disappointment, there was no light of understanding in her eyes, only consideration.

"Shortly after that, we went on an airship to Balfonheim, and you two threw all of his Judge's armor out the window into the Salikawood. You even threw out his poor snake." Penelo prodded Fran a little more, and the Viera instantly began to type coordinates into the array.

"The antidote recipe and the poison formula is there, then. A clever hume-child, Ffamran was." Fran gently lifted the ship out of the hangar and accelerated it to frightening speeds.

"What? Did you figure the riddle out?"

"It was very simple; the formula for the poison is engraved on his sword and the recipe for the antidote is on his shield."

Penelo blushed unhappily—why hadn't she figured it out? Ffamran did say he would leave clues, and the clues he left glared at her in the face.

Fran parked the ship over a Gate Crystal in the Salikawood, climbing down the rope ladder like a spider and immediately lifting her nose to sniff the air.

"What are you looking for?" Penelo asked curiously.

"The scent of metal. There is very little metal in the Salikawood, so we can say that any I smell may belong to his armor."

"Oh."

They walked in silence for a while, until Penelo pointed out they were going in circles. Fran stopped, shaking her head in thinly veiled frustration.

"I can smell _him_. It is old and very faint, but I can feel it nonetheless. It is very close to the Necrohol of Nabudis, but there the trail nearly vanishes. The Mist makes it even harder for me to sense anything at all."

"Let us move toward the Necrohol, then. Perhaps we might see it on our way there." Penelo suggested.

As they wandered through the Garden of Decay, there was the sound of quiet footsteps, just behind them. When they turned to see their pursuer, there was nothing but shaking ferns, and a few Wyrdhares quivering with terror on the path. Fran shifted into a fighting stance.

"Show yourself!" she commanded, her hands raised and glowing with magick.

Silence.

Fran repeated her question, this time in Vieran.

"Do you think a Viera is—" Penelo began, but stopped in midsentence when the ferns parted, and a young boy cautiously emerged. He looked to be about sixteen, and wore a ragged black robe, barefoot. The sunlight glinted off his golden brown hair and strange, vaguely hexagonal shaped smudges of dirt on his face and neck.

He seemed a little battered, and worse for wear, but by now, Penelo could recognize Ffamran anywhere.

"You—how did you get here? Did you make another deal with Death to come to the future to give us the antidote?" she bounded toward him, a smiles, but was surprised and hurt when he retreated quickly, his jet black eyes wide with fear. He cried out in musical, hissing Vieran.

"He says to come no closer." Fran translated. "It does not appear that he understands very much normal hume-speak."

"How can he? Ffamran, what have you done to yourse—"

His tongue flickered out, long and black, forked and impossibly fast, licking the air and retreating into his mouth as quickly as it came. As his mouth shut, she caught a glimpse of a long, needlelike tooth.

It was not Ffamran.

It was Balthier, his pet snake.


	6. The Snake Returns

Fear the zombified Daifuku... Mu is really tired right now but persisted most valiantly to get this very... strange, strange chapter out. Oh well, the story is MOVING FORWARD and that is what the main point is!

Thanks to **Tango-chan**, **emeraldonyxdragon-san**, and **authorgal282**, because they review for all my strangeness.

* * *

The snake, mysteriously turned Hume, studied them with round, liquid black eyes. When his gaze alighted on Fran, his face lit up and he unleashed a stream of happy Vieran upon her. Fran smiled faintly and replied in the same language.

"He says he is glad to see me again after six years, and he has missed Ffamran and I sorely," she translated. "I have taken the liberty of informing him who you are, and what our purpose is." Penelo nodded, staring at the boy in wonder. He was identical to his (at the time) sixteen-years-old master, but for the hexagonal smudges of dirt that, upon closer examination, revealed themselves to be scales barely beneath his skin.

"He also says he knows where Ffamran's sword and shield are, and that he can take us to the place." Fran said, following another string of sibilant Vieran from the snake-boy. He led them through the woods, distancing them from the Necrohol, chattering away in his ancient woodland tongue.

"How did he live, all this time?" she asked, and Balthier looked at her curiously as Fran relayed the question.

"He lived off of anything he could find, though he says occasionally he left the shelter of the Salikawood and braved the Highwaste to hunt for other snakes. Fruit was not as desirable, but he ate that too, if there was nothing else," was the response. Penelo shuddered; it was hard to imagine the narrow, three-foot long serpent she knew devouring one of the five-foot monstrosities of the Mosphoran Highwaste.

Eventually, their path diverged from the raised walkways of the normal road, and Balthier easily scampered up a tree ahead of them and perched on a narrow bough without using his hands for balance, watching them with laughing eyes. Fran clambered up after him, but Penelo followed more laboriously. Her frustration only rose as he led them on a trail through the canopy, and she envied her two companion's steady feet as they maneuvered over branches thick and thin (though she soon noticed Balthier had a thin serpent's tail that he used to balance himself as he walked). Finally, after an ascent that brought them so high into the jungle canopy that Penelo had to cling to the thick branch on all fours out of fear, Balthier reached into a large hole and painstakingly pulled the sword and shield from inside. He brushed off six years' worth of moss and lichen, until the faded red filigree appeared on the shield. The sword, he left in the sheath.

"Still sharp," he said in broken Ivalic. Penelo jumped; she did not think he was capable of using regular Hume language. "I use and make sharp—use to hunt when…" he cocked his head, screwing his face in concentration.

"Hume?" Fran supplied helpfully, and Balthier nodded, pleased.

"Hume," he repeated, as if tasting the word. It was all so silly—it was the same voice, yet with a distinct lack of culture and the rich Archadian accent that Ffamran possessed. Penelo couldn't help it—she started laughing. Balthier stared at her incredulously, the tip of his tail twitching where it lay across his curled toes.

"I'm sorry," she gasped when she finally managed to get her giggles under control. "It's just… Balthier, the Hume one, I mean, would be mortified if he saw us right now." The snake shook his head, muttering something that made Fran smile under his breath, before he froze, black tongue flickering out. His head jerked up as he scanned their surroundings with the air of a predator suddenly turned prey.

"You followed?" he asked, rising to his feet slowly. Fran angled her ears forward and back.

"I suspected we would be. It seems they have caught up to us," she said.

"I think I can hear a hovercycle!" Penelo exclaimed, cupping her ears. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Balthier scampered away up the branch, climbing until he was lost in the green, whispering ceiling of jungle leaves above them. "Wait! Where are you going?" she cried, but Fran grabbed her arm.

"Forget him—his mind is like that of a child's, perhaps merely even that of a simple animal. He was frightened, so he fled. We must look to the men who followed us," she said. Just as she finished saying those words, the hovercycle, bearing two of Fulton's large, burly men, lowered itself through a hole in the canopy to corner them against the tree's giant trunk.

"Alright, we got 'em!" one man shouted into a communications link from where he piloted the hovercycle.

"Hand over the formula!" the other shouted, aiming a gun. Penelo's eyes locked upon it. Fomalhaut—the sky pirate Balthier's gun—the man who had kidnapped her from Rabanastre—

"You!" she shrieked, throwing herself at him. She might have attacked him, but for the strong, mocha arms around her stomach that held her back. The man's greasy lips twisted in an ugly smirk.

"Remember me, girly?" he laughed, kicking the pilot's leg. "Set 'er on down, I wants to enjoy aperhendin' these."

Fran sighed, clearly unimpressed by the Hume's butchery of language, and retreated farther against the tree trunk, dragging the angry Penelo with her. "We do not have the formula," she lied with an excellent poker face. Fulton's minion rolled his eyes.

"Sure ye don't. DON' LIE T' ME, MISSY, WE 'EARD TH' WHOLE FLAMIN' THING!" he roared. Penelo flinched as he took huge steps toward them, his footsteps shaking the tree branch. "Ye didn' think we wasn't gonna bug the ship, didja?" he sounded immensely pleased with himself, as he rubbed his thumb on Balthier's gun. Penelo knew the pirate would mostly likely die of an aneurism from seeing his gun so manhandled, but there was nothing they could do about it. "Hand over th' shield."

"No." Penelo clutched it to her chest, holding it tightly. The man pulled the trigger—a bullet exploded to her left. "I said no! And if you shoot me, I shall throw it from the tree and you will never find it."

"Think ye can toss it before I shoot ya?"

"Do you think you can pull the trigger before you die?" Fran responded silkily.

"Wha—?" the man's questioning utterance was cut short as something very large and very black dropped from the branches high above him and landed right on top of him, crushing him into the wood underfoot. The branch sagged dangerously under the extra weight of—

A snake.

At least ten feet long, and two feet thick at its widest, the snake was larger than any type of snake Penelo had ever seen. It wrapped sinuous black coils around its unfortunate victim, before, with a glint of fangs the length of Penelo's forearm, its head flashed down toward the doomed man. His scream cut off abruptly with a horrible rattle, and when the snake lifted its head, blood stained the white scales under its jaw.

"By the gods!" the pilot screamed as Balthier the serpent, grown huge with Mist and enraged by the threat posed to Fran and his master, opened his hood, hissing loudly. "By the gods!" the pilot tried to start the engine, but too late!

Penelo shut her eyes as the last of the pilot's legs vanished down Balthier's gullet, and the snake shifted slightly, his body bulging around his most recent meal. He seemed very content as he eyed the two women now cornered against the tree trunk by him.

"It would appear that the Mist granted this snake several strange abilities," Fran observed. "You say that Death put a piece of Ffamran's soul inside of it? That would explain why, after long enough exposure to Mist, he was able to gain a somewhat Hume appearance. The Mist is also said to enlarge all creatures exposed to it."

"I think that has just been proved true," Penelo said faintly. She had thought it hard to imagine a three-foot long snake eating the Mosphoran serpents—but this ten-foot monstrosity! "Wow," she managed to say. "Fran, do you think it could eat a wooly gator?"

"Probably not," Fran replied. "It is certainly long enough, but not wide enough. We must hurry back—whether Balthier comes with us or not, it does not matter, but the Hume Balthier is dying even as we marvel here."

Penelo crept forward, and the snake (carefully, so as to not disturb the two very, very dead men on their way through his digestive system) lowered itself to another branch, watching them curiously. As they made their way back to the ship, Penelo glanced back.

"Fran, he's following us."

"It would seem he intends to return to Balfonheim with us." Fran said simply. Balthier slithered after them laboriously, clearly uncomfortable as his meal was jostled inside of him, and wary as they approached the airship. "Open the loading ramp please, Penelo. We can let him stay in the cargo hold for now." Fran then turned to the snake and coaxed him into the ship in Vieran, backing up the ramp and calling for him to follow. Balthier seemed torn, looking between the jungle that had been his home for six years, and the alien contraption that resembled the machine from which he had fallen, his tongue flicking out as he contemplated.

"You're too big for us to throw you," Penelo smiled at him, screwing up her courage to pat his large, scaly head. It was very smooth, she found, and slightly slippery. Finally making up his mind, Balthier followed Fran inside.

"I can pilot the ship alone. Please stay with him and make sure he is all right." Fran said, making her way into the cockpit.

"Uh, sure," Penelo nodded, eyeing the huge mass of undulating snake inside the cargo hold. She edged inside, turning on the light so she could see him better. The last thing she wanted was to be in the dark with Balthier alone; he ate _people_, for heaven's sake! He never said anything about that.

Balthier was watching her with that curious expression again, his head resting on one of his large coils. There was still blood on the scales on the bottom of his jaw—making her way to a utility sink, Penelo selected a white towel from the rickety cabinet under the sink and wet it with water, carefully approaching the huge snake. She dabbed at his chin with the towel, staining it irrevocably red, but Balthier made no move to sink his fangs into her. In fact, he raised his head very obligingly, though he looked as if he was growing increasingly sleepy as she messaged his jowl.

"We forgot the sword in the jungle… the secret to making the poison is lost forever." Penelo said quietly. "I suppose it is for the best."

Fran stepped into the room, holding the shield. "The formulas are written in Vieran—I can see why he was so eager to know me at the time, he could not even read the writing. However… this formula on the shield is for the poison, not the antidote. Ffamran did not trust you, it seems. If it is lost, so is all his chances." Balthier looked as if he were smirking drowsily at this point, raising his head and opening his jaws wide. Penelo wrinkled her nose as he presented her with the hilt of Ffamran's sword, covered in snake saliva and still partially stuck in his throat. Gingerly, she reached into that wide, gaping mouth, and pulled it out, her hands getting thoroughly slimed in the process. Unsheathing it, she handed it to Fran, who examined it thoughtfully.

"It is a mixture of charcoal, thunder magicite, and snakeskin, as well as… a small quantity of sugar. The only thing it lacks is the snake venom mentioned on the shield."

"Why the sugar?" Penelo asked. Fran shrugged.

"Ffamran always had a sweet tooth."

A loud beep in the cockpit notified them to their imminent arrival in Balfonheim; Penelo glanced at the gigantic snake napping in the corner of the room. It would be interminably hard to hide a ten-foot long snake from Fulton, who seemed to anticipate their every move and word before they knew it themselves. As if sensing her train of thought, Balthier woke up and began shrinking until a lithe Hume boy in a ragged black robe sat on the ground, yawning and showing off his sharp canines, his black, forked tongue arching as he yawned.

"We are there?" he asked, rubbing his eyes and gazing up at her sleepily. Penelo smiled, gathering the sword and shield up.

"Yes, we are there. However, soon, we will not be able to speak—your silence will be your best defense," she advised. He really was like a child, and was much more likeable than the sky pirate Balthier (who could be, inarguably, an ass at times) or even Ffamran, who was so careful to guard his secrets he inevitably ended up crossing himself in the end and taking down everyone related to him. And now, Penelo wondered as the ship docked smoothly and men in black filled the ship, would Ffamran's stalwart caution save them, or damn them all?


	7. What Lies Beneath

I thought I was going to DIE working on this chapter... Zombie Mu was at it again, stumbling through a fantasy land of strange things to get this out. Thanks to the awesome Brain Buddy **Tango-chan** and the ever kind **dragon-san**, **xtrinityinfinity**, **authorgal282**, and last but certainly not least, **fluidstatic **(My goodness, I adore your stories and cannot describe how ecstatic I was to receive a review and a favorite from you!)!

* * *

"They have brought back another one, captain."

Fulton turned away from the large window overlooking the bay, his hands clasped behind his back. "Oh?"

"It's a scummy li'l kid." Fulton's henchmen pushed the three captives into the room ahead of them, and at the sight of the white bird mask, the snake-child cowered away from him, shrinking back against Fran. Penelo's heart went into wild pulsations in the flimsy cage of her ribs, and she pressed her hand against her chest—her heart beat so loudly that she was certain it could be heard audibly in the room.

_He will see the resemblance to Ffamran_, she thought in a panic. _He will see, and then he will execute Balthier!_

"Well, well, well, but it does look like Ffamran." Yes, there it was. Fulton was no fool. "Did you find another god to impersonate him again? He hates the gods with every inch of his godless soul… yet is so silver-tongued that they will bend over backward to please him. Did you know, it is said that Balthier Bunansa even charmed Death to obey his whims?"

_Not charmed,_ Penelo thought wryly, glancing toward Balthier. Fran had a protective hand about his shoulders, holding him tightly before he might get it into his head to do something rash. _He certainly paid a price._

"I'll not make the mistake of trusting that silly boy-judge again. Take the women and the godling away. You know the place. And, take the shield." Three men with bags in their hands came forward, thrusting them over the prisoner's heads and bundling them into a narrow hall. When the bags came off, they were back in the white room.

The stricken sky pirate was on the bed, still as stone and white as the sheets he slept upon. Penelo quickly made her way to him, placing her hand on his chest and her finger under his nose—it felt as if eternity passed as she waited for the heavy thump of a beating heart, the puff of living breath.

_Please,_ she prayed, closing her eyes. _Not dead. Please!_

A cold hand over hers, and then there was a shaky breath, a weak, awkward thud under her palm. She opened her eyes to find Balthier looking at her, one thin hand upon her own. He gazed down upon his old owner in wonder, stroking a finger through the short, brown strands of his hair, examining his face for things to recognize. As if satisfied with what he saw, the snake-child slid from the bed and curled up in the sun, closing his eyes as he basked in the warm rays.

_Of course_, Penelo realized. _He was cold blooded._ Fran sat on the bed by her partner, listening to the sound of his weak heartbeat and watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest. With nothing better to do, Penelo lay down on the hard floor next to Balthier and watched the lazy flick of his tail as he slept—his fingers and toes twitched convulsively, and a muscle jumped in his neck—he was dreaming, no doubt, of warm forests and perhaps of a wyrdhare or two. The poor creature was not meant to be here, in a cesspool of Hume filth such as Fulton's stronghold in Balfonheim.

She could see why he enjoyed the sun—it was warm and comforting, lulling her to sleep with its gentle rays. The sky pirate, who unfortunately shared the same name as his snake, always complained about the Dalmascan sun and used it as a justification for why he never visited. Personally, Penelo thought it was because the sunlight revealed all his lies—but she was an innocent girl compared to Balthier, who contained a wellspring of cunning and did not hesitate in undamming it whenever it struck his fancy.

Penelo found she rather disliked this facet of him. His cunning got them into this mess in the first place, why! If he were awake, she would slap him silly, and maybe slap some sense into him while she was at it. However, it was, unfortunately, not her place to do that.

The slow, rhythmic flick of Balthier's jet-black tail was like a hypnotist's pendulum, and her eyelids began to droop. Slowly, she succumbed to sweet sleep.

* * *

"Oh, what a sweet scene I have stumbled upon!" Fulton's silky voice dragged her out of oblivion, and she awoke to find the apparition standing by the door, his white suit as impeccable as usual. "Arise, guests of mine. You are probably wondering why I have come; the answer is that we have successfully synthesized the antidote written on the shield."

_That was no antidote, _Penelo thought with bitter glee. _That was certainly no antidote, and what a great surprise you shall get!_

"Of course, Ffamran was always too duplicitous for his own good—I know I cannot trust him. It occurred to me; what if he switched the formulas, and put the poison on the shield? Then he would kill me, once and for all. It would be just like him, wouldn't it? Therefore, I am going to ask him to perform a test." Nodding to two men standing just outside the door, Fulton ushered them in. They bore a tray on which rested a covered glass cup filled with a clear liquid, and for some reason, that clear liquid frightened Penelo more than an entire regiment of Imperial Hoplites.

"If he dies, then I shall know he was false and make the formula on the sword. If it is true, we shall let him free. Commence the test, please." The men nodded, turned toward the bed, grabbed Balthier to lever him up, and lowering the glass toward his lips—

Penelo dashed forward, pushing the cup-wielding servant down to the ground, and in the same instant, Fran stood up quickly. Beneath the cover of his mask, Fulton was clearly smiling.

"Just as I suspected." His form blurred and disappeared, but they heard his voice, shouting. "Inject the second!" The servant whom Penelo knocked down picked himself and his cup back up from the ground with a relieved expression on finding that the cup hadn't broken or spilled, bowed deferentially to the air and turned to leave. Sighing with relief, Penelo sank back to the ground, but Fran and Balthier both seemed to have different ideas.

Fran jumped at the servant's back, tripping him and sending him crashing to the ground, dispatching him with a hand to the back of his head. The cup rolled across the floor, and Balthier quickly swooped upon it in a rush of black fabric. He crossed the room to his master's bedside and unceremoniously hauled his heavy, comatose body from the bed, while Fran brusquely dumped the now unconscious servant in the place the sky pirate occupied earlier. Gesturing with two long, cinnamon fingers, Fran shepherded them into the hall, making remarkably little noise despite wearing stiletto heels.

"What are we doing?" Penelo whispered urgently, swiftly coming abreast of Balthier and helping him with his burden.

"Saving Ffamran," Balthier hissed in reply.

"We go to Fulton's laboratory, where he is making the antidote. There must be some left over, and he cannot know of our breakout yet." Fran whispered back to them.

"I cannot?" A middle-aged man in a white suit and a bird mask leaned against his cane in the middle of the corridor, the eye-holes a soulless void. "I cannot know, but it seems I do! Fancy that!"

"By the gods... it's him!" Penelo whispered in terror. Balthier hissed venomously, his black scales standing in stark contrast against his paper white skin. He was livid with rage—he was not a creature of complex thought. All he knew was that this man was the one who had harmed his master, and was the cause of his problems. To think, right now he could be asleep in a tree by Ffamran's window, soaking in the sun. Though, of course, Ffamran was to blame, too… if he hadn't been so discontent with his lot in life, of course he would never have gotten himself mixed up with sky pirates in the first place. However…

Ffamran was waiting for something, and he could feel the quiver of anticipation that made the soul fragment within him wish to sing with its more complete counterpart. Every weak breath he took stank of plots.

Fulton was still standing in the corridor, blocking their way out, but Fran and Balthier had paused now, waiting for something. The middle-aged man in the tailored white suit took a few steps toward them, studying them with his soulless eyes.

"I've outsmarted you, Ffamran," like all mastermind villains, Fulton could not resist gloating. "Such a pity, six years you waited for this to happen—and look. You are dying and I am alive, so very, very alive!"

"Are you?" Balthier challenged, his tail twitching viciously. "I warn, think you live, petty Hume, but Death come to visit you quick, quick, quicker now than before!"

"Making threats, godling? I hardly think this the time or place. Here, _I _am in command. This is my stage, and _I _am the leading man."

Penelo looked at Balthier askance—he was but a snake, though he possessed a quarter of a Hume soul. Did he understand what was happening? Fulton had the antidote, and they did not. Or… perhaps he knew something she didn't? Deimos was nowhere to be seen, but he had to be following, for Death followed the footsteps of Ffamran 'Balthier' Mid Bunansa Archades no matter where he went.

Fran shook her mane of silver white hair. "Your time is up, Captain."

Fulton convulsed, his cane falling to the floor and his body following like a tree with its roots cut away. He writhed, a short-fingered hand grasping at the air, then his chest, and finally, Fran's ankle. She waited patiently until his feet no longer kicked invisible enemies, then pried his cooling hands from around her ankle. Balthier knelt by Fulton's head, lowering his master to the ground carefully, and pulled back the bird mask with trembling hands.

Cold green eyes stared at the ceiling as if accusing it of laying him low, glazed over in death, and a little blood ran down his milk-white chin, staining the edge of his satin collar. His face was haughty, even though it was no longer animated by life, and Balthier reached out a small hand to close Fulton's glaring eyes. Even when they were shut, Penelo imagined they were still examining her, trying to place the blame upon her.

Balthier looked to Fran imploringly.

"We give Ffamran antidote now?" he gestured to the cup of clear liquid in Fran's mocha hands, and she smiled.

"We can give him the antidote, now." She braced Balthier's back against her own, her fingers walking across the green and gold whorls on his vest, and tilted his head back, while the snake-child poured the clear liquid into his mouth. Penelo imagined that Balthier seemed to breathe easier, and that his sickly face colored, but it was her imagination and only that.

"I thought that was the poison," she said suddenly, just remembering something. Fran shook her head.

"It was a ploy," she said. "The ship was rigged, remember? Thus, we played a game of opposites. I lied about the shield bearing the poison recipe, knowing that they would make both in order to perform the test. They would naturally give Balthier the supposed 'antidote' to ensure that is what it truly was."

"Why wasn't I told this?" Penelo exploded. "I—I thought we were in this together!"

"It was Balthier's plan," Fran said, looking toward the recovering Hume who still lie on the floor, immersed in poison dreams. "It all came undone after six years, just as he predicted."

"Just as he predicted," Penelo repeated leadenly, suddenly possessed of the mad urge to kick Balthier in the stomach very, very hard while he was unable to defend himself. She knew she could be criticized for attacking a defenseless man, but how many people would she be doing a service for? She was certain that there were an infinite amount of people in Ivalice who would like to give Balthier a good kick right now.

Fran was charging a Raise spell now, nothing too strenuous or Balthier would sink into the darkness as fast as he emerged from the shock of the light. He stirred, gold glass marble eyes fluttering, then opening to a somnolent droop as he viewed them all dimly. He was silent, but Penelo recognized who was looking out of his glass window eyes.

"Ffamran…" she muttered, tightening her fist. "Ffamran, you bastard!"


	8. Death's Purpose

Hello, all, the Daifuku here. It's been a really long time since I updated this story... A lot of stuff has happened to me lately. Not so much as others, but it's enough for me. In about eight months, big changes will happen in my life. In two months, I will find out what, and I will have to make THE decision that will change the rest of my life. It's not like earlier where I knew exactly where I was going. I don't now. Haha... this was a load of something and nothing... ENOUGH WITH MY MORBIDITY. Here is the next chapter!

Thanks to **fluidstatic** for motivating me because I looked at her favorites list and realized... _mine is the only one that's not finished on that list!_ So I felt obligated to finish. And, thanks to **ElTangoDeRoxanne**. I don't know where I would be without you, Brain Buddy. Finally, thanks to everyone who reviewed back in... July, is it? Gaaah...

* * *

Penelo, if anything, was a simple girl. She put complex revenge and riddles on a level entirely beneath her, and so, rather than plotting, or planning, she slapped the sky pirate as hard as she could. Now that he was awake, she possessed no qualms about unleashing her wrath upon him. Her hand stung from the force of hitting his cheek—his thin, sallow, unhealthy looking cheek. In an instant, one of his hands rose to cradle the tender spot.

"That's for keeping secrets!" Penelo glared down at him. "How could you, Ffamran?" She did not miss the way that he jerked when his old name came spilling out of her mouth.

"Don't," he rasped. "Don't call me by that name." The angry curl of his lip indicated that spouting negativity was not the first thing Ffamran wanted to do when he woke from a near-death coma, but Penelo felt fully entitled to making him squirm.

"I'm going to call you that name because it's your name! He's Balthier—" she jabbed a finger toward the snake-child, who seemed to be fussing over a few loose scales on his tail, now that the perceived danger had passed—"and you're Ffamran! I'm going to make _you_ take responsibility for this!" The next words Ffamran spoke dug into her heart like a blade.

"I am going to ask you to _hold your tongue_, Penelo, until I find myself of the disposition to listen to your complaints. Until then, be quiet."

She went silent as if slapped. Ffamran tried to stand, but his legs nearly crumpled beneath him. In an instant, Balthier appeared at his side with a swish of black fabric. The snake offered her a sympathetic smile, but turned away as he helped Ffamran stagger towards the stairs. The next hour became a blur as they crossed the city to get to Reddas's Manse, the silences filled with Ffamran's pained breathing and occasional grunts of pain. By the time that Fran pounded on the mansion's front door, Ffamran leaned entirely upon Balthier, breathing raggedly and sinking quickly.

As soon as Elza opened the door, Ffamran raised his head enough to say a few words: "The pier… the fifth one… Fulton's pirates… capture them and bring them here…"

Elza nodded, her normally dynamic face void of expression for once, and ushered them inside. Now, Penelo waited with Balthier and Fran for Ffamran to wake up once more. They sat outside the bedroom where Ffamran slept like the dead, clustered together in the dark hallway barely lit by crystal lights.

Penelo said nothing to Fran or Balthier, and they said nothing back—instead, they spoke to each other in hushed Vieran, and Penelo figured that if it they did not deem their conversation worth being said in standard Hume tongue, then they must have thought that she did not need to know what they said. At one point, Balthier simply sighed and drew his knees to his chest, resting his black tail over his feet.

"Don't understand," Balthier began difficultly in standard Hume. "Why trust the Mask's medicine?"

It took Penelo a moment to figure out that Balthier meant Fulton. "Because he wanted to save himself," she replied.

"But we play opposite games. Why he cannot play game, too?"

"Ffamran _will_ heal," Penelo said fiercely, but Fran shook her head.

"All we can do is wait and hope that we gave him the right thing," she said quietly.

"I don't like this waiting, though! We should just give him more of the antidote!" Penelo shifted angrily, and Balthier narrowed his golden eyes at her.

"When I was a hatchling, Ffamran always told me patience is a virtue," he murmured, tucking his knees closer to his chest.

"To use medicine is to fight fire with fire. In large enough doses, that which cures can kill. Whatever Ffamran had, which I am nearly certain was the antidote, we shall just have to wait and see what it does." Fran tossed her head and settled down for the night, ready to wait outside Ffamran's door for him to finish resting, but Elza came bearing news that they had captured all of the pirates in Fulton's lair, then told the three that she would escort them to their bedrooms at gunpoint if they wouldn't cooperate.

Penelo followed the snake and the Viera up the steps and nearly tripped on the stairs, she suddenly felt so exhausted. She fell into the bed almost as eagerly as it seemed to receive her, but then thought to see if Balthier was comfortable—after all, she always remembered him sleeping in a small tree in Ffamran's window when she visited the past. Penelo tiptoed down the hall and opened the door a crack, just in time to see a scintillating mass of black scales vanishing under the bed.

She decided he was just fine.

* * *

The next morning, she arrived downstairs to find Ffamran eating toast, while Balthier and Fran sat across from him at the table.

"Our Sleeping Beauty finally makes her entrance," the sky pirate announced with a smirk, wiping a few crumbs from his lips with theatrical grace. He turned his attention back to Fran when Penelo simply nodded and sat down next to Balthier.

"As I was saying," Fran continued, "We have gained a few guests during the night."

"Have we?" Ffamran glanced up at her, golden eyes as cold as glass. "I daresay we should take care of them, then. Perhaps the greenhorns in Balfonheim need a little bit of target practice." Penelo's breath caught in her chest.

"You can't be thinking that!" she burst out, cheeks flaming with passion. "You're not _this_ cruel!"

"Ffamran, some are innocent," Balthier spoke up, and for the first time, he and Ffamran looked each other in the face. "I am certain that not all of them were involved. They are no different from those Archadian soldiers—just poor sods taking orders."

"Well, _your_ vocabulary has certainly expanded," the sky pirate remarked, strangely impressed and perhaps a little relieved that he no longer had to watch himself butcher the hume language. "But you both are as naïve as I was, when I was your age. I want to ask: _How_ do you suppose we tell who is innocent or not? Ask them and expect the truth? They are pirates, my friends, just like us, and when have we _not_ lied to save our own skins? And how many times have we been blindly believed and followed?"

Penelo wanted to slap him again.

"It's not up to you to decide if they should live or die." It has been a long time since she has gotten this worked up, and it doesn't sit right with her that her anger is directed towards a friend. However, she had her principles, and she did not plan to change her stance on them any time soon. "As long as there is life, there is hope."

As soon as the words left her lips, a horrible silence filled the room. Ffamran laced his fingers before his face and studied her for a long time. She could not tell what he thought—though his eyes seemed to be like glass, they certainly were not as transparent. The silence stretched.

Ffamran shattered the tense atmosphere with an easy laugh and an airy wave of his hand, and Penelo wanted to believe in that light-hearted gesture. She wanted to close her eyes and open them and find the snake-child next to her gone, and that the man she always knew as 'Balthier' was actually 'Balthier', the gentleman sky pirate who guided them across deserts and blue sky alike.

Of course, that was merely a wishful thought. Balthier still sat and glared with venomous eyes at his old master, and Ffamran looked away, as if to hide whatever dark secrets resided in his mind. No one said anything more on the matter.

She tried to distract herself for the rest of the day. Her feet took her on long walks down to the many quays of Balfonheim, but ultimately carried her back to the manse, where she would stand outside, unwilling to open the door but unsure where else to go. She continuously looked to the courtyard below her window, half expecting to see Fulton's men lined up against the wall and the ragged pirates of Balfonheim cocking pistols at their backs. Penelo covered her eyes when her thoughts strayed toward the image of Ffamran standing behind the gunmen, waiting to tell them to fire.

Ffamran did not carry out his threat of execution that day.

Penelo found herself unable to sleep that night, for fear that he might be waiting for the moment she no longer protected the prisoners. The bedroom door suddenly opened with a gentle creak, then Ffamran stepped into the room. He looked deathly pale in the moonlight filtering through the windows, and he slipped through the room like a ghost, but when he sat down on the bed, it creaked slightly under his weight. Penelo, hoping she wouldn't have to deal with him, feigned sleep.

A sigh, and the gentle strokes of a warm hand across her cheek. There was the creak of the bed as he shifted, then the feel of a leather-clad leg against her own.

"I know you're faking, dear girl," Ffamran breathed into her ear. Penelo reluctantly opened her eyes to find him casually lying next to her on the bed, lazily propping himself up on his elbow.

"What do you want?" Penelo turned toward him peevishly, knowing full well he could see her displeased expression even in the darkened room.

"I wanted to say I am so very sorry I hurt your feelings, dearest Penny."

Penelo blinked, taken aback.

"You see," Ffamran continued, "I must admit that I was not thinking quite so clearly as I usually have today. You must have been worried."

"B—Ffamran? This isn't—" Penelo stammered.

"Hush, sweetheart. Apologizing is difficult for me. Do you wish that I not?" He stroked a few stray hairs from her face and smiled gently. "I noticed you watching the courtyard to make sure I didn't follow through."

Penelo released the long held breath in relief. "I'm glad."

"Again, I am so sorry. Sleep well tonight, Penelo."

Ffamran rose from the bed and went to the window, gazing down into the courtyard for a moment before closing the window and drawing the heavy drapes shut. Under cover of darkness, he made his way to the door. Penelo thought she heard the click of rattling bone as he left, but dismissed it as the creaking of the bed and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

"And to what purpose does it serve? What do you want, Ffamran? What does 'making an example of them' show? Did you want to show off a power over life and death? _Do you want to be a god?_"

Penelo awoke to the sound of Balthier's frustrated shouts coming from the courtyard. She flew out of bed the instant his voice reached her ears and flung the window open.

The stench of death hit her like a blow to the face when she laid eyes on the carnage below. The flagstones ran red, watering the flowers by the walkways with blood. Several pirates already had begun loading the corpses of Fulton's men onto wagons, while others cleaned bloody swords on the shirts of their victims. In the middle of the sea of bodies, Ffamran and Balthier stood face-to-face, engaged in a one-sided yelling match.

Ffamran's face remained neutral as he listened to Balthier, unmoving as stone.

In another place and another time, Penelo remembered Cid standing atop a dais, silhouetted by the crimson setting sun, while Ffamran tried to reason with the god-possessed man.

"_How could you do this? How could you fall this far?_"

When Balthier spat the words, it seemed Ffamran had fallen back to that time, too. He moved as if in a dream, eyes seeing something other than the nightmare before him.

"You are not my child," he whispered. "This is not _that_ time. I am not my father. I…"

His marble eyes swept over the massacre that surrounded him, the crows alighting to take their glut of death. In a moment, his eyes hardened. "They were my enemies. You say they are innocent, but you cannot know that."

Balthier slid his hand into his black robe.

Penelo ran down the stairs, forcing herself to move faster. A bang to her left—the door flew off its hinges to reveal Fran, covered in sweat from exertion but equally as desperate as Penelo.

"Humes change," Ffamran's voice echoed through the hall around them, dead and hollow in the hall. The courtyard entrance seemed so far away, a pinprick of light in the distance. "Of all the races of Ivalice, they are the most pitiful—and the most despicable. All that is pure is corrupted by their touch—even if they are innocent."

Penelo burst into the courtyard and Ffamran turned toward her, smiling horribly. "I am only looking out for what is best for all of us. I will not follow in my father's footsteps, never fear—by purging this corruption—" he swept his hand over the slaughter—"I have already taken the first step to removing the chaos of this Ivalice."

Penelo wanted to scream, but she could only say weakly, "You promised…" _Promised me you would not do this._

"Oh, that?" Ffamran smiled, and it Penelo never saw a smile more beautiful and terrible. "That was a lie. To a man like me, a promise is nothing more than a few uttered words. Empty air. Shame on you for believing in that."

Balthier did not do anything undignified such as yell, or scream, or smile in satisfaction when he stabbed Ffamran in the back; tears streaked his pale cheeks, but his mouth remained a thin line, neither frowning, nor trembling with weakness.

Ffamran staggered faintly from the impact, hand reaching back for the hilt of the knife, but hand of bone beat him to it. At the touch of Death, the dagger burned to ashes and disappeared, but Ffamran, eyes glazed, slumped into Death's embrace.

"It would be rather inconvenient if you removed my pawn so early in our game, snake," he said, turning toward Balthier with his eternal grin. "He is a puppet who needs to be broken at the right time, and it is not now."

Penelo took a step forward. "Why? We had a deal, Death! You were going to take Fulton's soul instead of Ffamran's!"

"You are so trusting, sweet Penelo. That was a lie, too." At his words, Ffamran shuddered in his arms. "Hard lessons must be repeated until learned, it seems. As for _why_, are you so blind? Were you not listening to me when I said it the first time? Look at this sea of corruption around you. No, this is not even a sea, but a small drop of water falling in the rain. I am Death—I am a god, a protector of this world. In order to protect it, those who would harm it must be removed." He held a hand to her, the bony fingers changing to flesh as his face transformed into that of Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca. "You already have done it before. You removed Vayne Solidor from the world. Won't you help me now, Penelo?"

She shook her head. "Your words are as poisonous as your touch on this world. Give back Ffamran, and leave."

Death turned away, easily moving through the heaps of bodies. "I think not. Look at him—a soul with no conscience. I did my best to cultivate him to be such a good little pawn. I removed his sense of morality and placed it where it would not trouble him, and thanks to the events of today, he is a soul filled with despair. He is ready for his true purpose, as you would have been, should you have joined me. I am still feeling charitable. If you do not interfere, I will not have to purge you to create a pure world, too."

He vanished into a cloud of black crows, and Ffamran with him, leaving Fran, Balthier, and Penelo alone in the sea of decay.


End file.
